


Trials and Thorns

by Nary



Category: Lyke-Wake Dirge (Traditional Song)
Genre: Afterlife, Death, Gen, Lawyers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 06:29:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10985283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/pseuds/Nary
Summary: If I had known the road to the afterlife was going to be so difficult, I'd have packed better for the journey.





	Trials and Thorns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goosecathedral](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goosecathedral/gifts).



If I had known the road to the afterlife was going to be so difficult, I'd have packed better for the journey. Not that I had a chance to pack, of course. It was all very sudden. One second, talking to my partner on my cell phone, the next, hit by a speeding car as I stepped out to cross the road. Bam, over and done with. I barely even had time to be surprised, let alone to suffer. It could have been worse, although I suppose it must have been very upsetting for Bridges, who had to listen to the whole thing over the phone. After all, he'd been my partner in our shared law firm for almost twenty-five years, and although I wouldn't say we were friends precisely, one does become rather attached to a colleague over that length of time.

I must admit, however, if I didn't have time to be surprised before the accident, I was certainly surprised after. The afterlife wasn't something I had ever given much thought to. Perhaps I entertained a vague impression of clouds and harps, or fire and brimstone, if anything. I suppose when I thought about it at all, I imagined that after death, one simply ceased to exist. So to find myself standing naked at the edge of a vast landscape of thorns and gorse was, to put it mildly, unexpected. Perhaps, I thought as I tried to make sense of it all, my mortally injured brain was hallucinating all of this. I reached out to touch one of the branches and winced, pulling my hand back sharply at the piercing pain. If it was a hallucination, it was an extremely realistic one.

I looked around, thinking that there must have been some mistake. Behind me was nothing but a grey mist, quite opaque and stretching out in either direction as far as I could see. Hesitant after my previous explorations, I reached out a hand and was greeted by nothing but cold emptiness. I knew as though by instinct that to walk in that direction would be oblivion. For a moment it was tempting, but I was also distinctly curious about what lay in the other direction. Could there be something on the other side? And if so, was it anything I wanted to find? 

When I turned back, there was a small sign before me, rustic and wooden, which read 'Welcome to Whinny-Muir.' I could have sworn it hadn't been there before, but then, I'd been distracted by having recently died, so perhaps I had missed it. There was also some fine print below the message, and, carefully avoiding the thorns, I crouched down to read it, adjusting my bifocals and thinking it distinctly unfair that being dead hadn't at least corrected my eyesight. Although I suppose at least I'd kept the glasses, unlike my trousers, coat, and shoes. 

The fine print was quite obscure, but as a lawyer, one does become accustomed to puzzling out the meaning of antiquated verbiage. The gist, as I understood it, was that if I had given shoes and hose (which I took to be either socks or trousers, depending on what time period this text was drafted during, if any) to a poor person at any point during my life, I would now be granted said hose and shoes to wear, in order to protect me from the thorns.

I thought it over carefully. Strolling around town distributing shoes to beggars wasn't part of my ordinary routine. To be entirely honest, I normally avoided making eye contact with panhandlers, and had been known to cross the street to avoid them. I donated a few dollars here and there to various charitable endeavors, mainly environmental groups and arts organizations. I doubted that ballet shoes counted, and even if they did, I wasn't sure I wanted to walk into the afterlife wearing them. But perhaps there was a way around the dilemma nevertheless. 

I stood up, straightening my glasses, and addressed the air around me. "In the case of Spencer v. Victory Sportswear International, I successfully argued that the defendant, a major manufacturer of footwear and other athletic apparel, had endangered its factory employees with unsafe working conditions, unacceptably long hours, and pay below the mandated minimum wage, in violation of both state and federal statutes. As part of the subsequent out of court settlement, they provided all of these employees with a compensation package that included a generous financial settlement for damages incurred, shares of company stock... and a complementary pair of sneakers every six months. As such, one could argue that I have in fact given shoes to thousands of unfortunate people. Or at least, been responsible for them receiving shoes, which is more or less the same thing."

I waited, having no idea if anyone was listening to my case. In law school, one of my professors told us if we were nervous in court, to imagine that the judge, jury, and opposing counsel were all naked. This was the reverse situation, and somehow that didn't help to put me at ease. Still, I thought my evidence was rather compelling, if unconventional. Granted, it didn't cover the hose issue, but I thought that was probably peripheral to the more important issue of something solid to put on my feet. 

Just as I was beginning to think nothing was going to happen, and considering the merits of venturing into the mist of oblivion once more, something landed in front of me with a thud. It was a pair of Victory sneakers. Then another pair fell, and another, until I had to cover my head or risk being pummeled to death by a rain of athletic footwear. Although I suppose at this point, "to death" was less of a concern than it might otherwise have been. 

When the downpour finally came to a stop, there was a broad path that stretched out across the field of thorns - a road made entirely of sneakers. I had a look around and put on the nearest pair that looked about my size. They fit perfectly, and, smiling to myself, I set off for whatever trials lay ahead. After all, I had been a very good lawyer, and I never met a trial I didn't do my damnedest to win.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at [naryrising](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/naryrising) if you want to ask questions, make requests, or chat!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Trials and Thorns](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12279486) by [Nary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/pseuds/Nary), [sisi_rambles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sisi_rambles/pseuds/sisi_rambles)




End file.
